Fighting Redemption(72)

Then she listened to her mum sigh with enough exasperation to make Fin feel like she was ten years old again.

“Didn’t you read the pamphlet I gave you on what you could and couldn’t eat?”

Fin rolled her eyes at Laura who was rounding out today’s contingent of the female Tanner shopping expedition. Laura smirked in reply.

Fin had taken one look at the pamphlet and tossed it on her desk for another day. The list of what she supposedly couldn’t eat was at least a mile long. If she paid it any attention, she may as well give up eating altogether. She wanted sushi and her favourite sandwich—smoked salmon, cream cheese, and rocket; or turkey with cranberry sauce, camembert, alfalfa, and avocado.

“I looked at it,” Fin told her mum as her stomach growled angrily. Dammit. Was food all she could think about anymore? Better than thinking about Ryan.

Her mother rolled her eyes before striking up a conversation with the lady over the deli counter and ordering a half kilo of ham. Sliced deli meat was one thing she remembered skimming her eye over. “If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t know right now that I’m not allowed to eat that ham,” she pointed out.

“It’s for your father,” her mum murmured distractedly.

Intent on using the distraction to her advantage, Fin gripped her hands firmly to the trolley and made a rapid escape from the pair of them. Breathing a sigh of relief at seeing the next aisle empty of people, Fin gave up the pretence of trying to walk like a normal person. Her feet, encased in plain black flip flops, were literally going to kill her. She was only just past six months along—were they supposed to be that swollen already? God. She just wanted to be at home lying on the couch, her feet elevated on the arm rest as soothing music wafted through the room. She could rest her hands on her belly and imagine they were Ryan’s, but she was only kidding herself and the pretence just made her feel worse.

Moving farther up the aisle, Fin halted in front of the cereals and hitched up her bright purple yoga pants. “I really need to buy some maternity clothes,” she muttered as they slid back down, the soft, elasticised waistband folding back underneath her tummy—enough to expose the very tips of her tattoo.

Sighing, Fin tried to tug her tank top down instead. It didn’t quite reach the waistband of her pants, leaving a sliver of exposed skin.

“You may as well just bite the bullet, Finlay Tanner,” she told herself as she adjusted her clothes without success, “you’re doing this on your own. Putting off buying maternity clothes isn’t helping anyone, especially the public who right now have to bear witness to your fat stomach.”

Grabbing at both a packet of Weet-bix and Coco Pops, Fin held them aloft as she examined the contents. She had to have the milky chocolate crunch or someone would pay, but Weet-bix was the healthy option, wasn’t it? Maybe she should get both. Why was choosing a cereal so hard? A tear slid down her cheek, and then another, until clutching both boxes of cereal to her swollen belly, Fin began to sob openly, not even caring that she was crying in the middle of a supermarket. She was pregnant, dammit. She could get away with all kinds of emotional outbursts. It wasn’t like the supermarket was full of people anyway, and even if it was, she was sure most would be giving her a wide berth. They would have to anyway, what with her giant belly being in the way and all.

“Hey now, what’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Fin spun around at the familiar voice and came face to face with Kyle’s cheeky hazel eyes. What was he doing here? She looked frantically up and down the aisle for Ryan, but she didn’t see him. Was he here somewhere too?

Kyle reached out and cupped her face, using his thumbs to wipe her tears away. He pressed a kiss to her forehead before taking a step back and looking down at her, waiting for some kind of response.

Flustered, Fin glanced down at the cereal boxes crushed against her. “I can’t choose what cereal to buy,” she choked out.

Kyle’s eyebrows flew up. “Okay,” he drawled. Using his left arm, he reached out for one of the boxes in her arms, and she jerked back. He cleared his throat. “Well, you seem kinda attached to both of them. Maybe you should just buy both.”

“Right,” Fin muttered, in no hurry to toss the cereal into her trolley and expose her supersized form. It was then that her eyes fell on his right arm. It was bandaged heavily and bound tight to his body with a heavy duty sling. Alarmed, she met his eyes. “Your arm!”

Kyle shrugged. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch. They sent me home a little early.”

Fin’s eyes widened. “They sent you home for a scratch?”

She watched Kyle cringe a little and rub awkwardly at the back of his neck. “Yeah. I got scratched by a bullet.”

“A bullet?” Dizziness engulfed her, and the boxes in her arms went a little lax. “So really, you were shot. Are you … Is Ryan …”

“Ryan’s fine!” Kyle replied quickly. Fin let out the breath she didn’t realise she was holding. “It wasn’t even an attack, just some bastard who pinged off a shot and got lucky.”

“Kyle,” she muttered. Why did they keep going back there? How many people had to get hurt or die?

“I’m okay,” he replied and amusement filled his eyes. “As good as I can be. I really miss using my right hand.” Fin flushed wildly at the implication, and he burst out laughing. “You’re so easy.”